By: Andrew Silverstein

Gourmet food trucks are no strangers to skyscraper-addled cities across the country like L.A., Portland, and Miami.  It only makes sense that Tampa would start getting its share sooner or later.

Just a few weeks ago, the Tampa Food Truck Rally worked as a testament to just how well received these mobile eateries have become in the Tampa Bay Area.  Over  10 food trucks and over 3,000 people gathered in the sweltering heat of the Hyde Park Presbyterian Church parking lot to get a taste from Tampa food trucks like Fat Tortilla, Fire Monkey, Killer Sammich, and 'Wicked Wiches.

Naturally, I had to see what all the buzz is about.  Setting my sites on Wicked 'Wiches, I found where they'd be for the day on their Facebook page and headed out.

Naturally, you wouldn't really expect to get lunch on the Hillborough County Sheriff's Office parking lot, but there I found myself ordering from a dry erase board's worth of sandwiches, wings, smashed meat balls, and more.

It was love at first sight after reading the ingredients in Wicked 'Wiches' "Texas" sandwich; Dr. Pepper slow roasted brisket, carmelized onions, Irish cheddar cheese, and Dallas barbecue sauce on a pillowy bun.

It's, admittedly, not a very pretty sandwich, just some brown beef pressed between two greasy buns by the looks of it, but that's (thankfully) not what they're about.  The taste is the focal point and it shows.  Sweet shavings of brisket meld with the molten Irish cheddar and sauce to make one hell of a sandwich.  A side of fried, sweet potato chips drizzled in a sweet sauce I wish I got the name of were perfect for a between-bite flavor switch up from the sandwich.

A huge order of Maduro fried pickles are a more than apt side dish for two people.   Typical fried pickles come in little disc, sandwich-friendly form.  The ones at Wicked 'Wiches are full on pickle spears.  Each golden fried spear is like, the size of a respectable hot dog.  I was a little put off by their hulking size, but dipped in the accompanying spicy, roumelade-like sauce, they got addictive, quick.  "Oh yeah, there's still a sandwich to eat," I thought halfway through an order of fried ginormo-pickles.

Wicked 'Wiches prove that the food truck fare doesn't always have to be the questionable, greasified roadside grub many of us expect it to be.  They meld the best of quick serve, cheap fare, and culinary innovation to create a surprisingly affordable ($12 for the sandwich and pickles) concept.  Check the Wicked 'Wiches Facebook or Twitter page for a location, head out for lunch, and see if you agree.